


No fighting wars, no ringing chimes. We're just feeling fine.

by h1raeth



Series: Absolutely Nonsense Fortnite Drabbles I will probably only explain through my writing or not at all [1]
Category: Fortnite (Video Game)
Genre: but i mean its a fortnite fic you take what you can get right, do not hold me to ur high standards ao3 readers this is probably Garbage, i just love midas and skye. he adopted her do not argue with me, i wrote this for self-indulgence and also for a friend, skye is 16!!! dont be fucking weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:42:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29610987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h1raeth/pseuds/h1raeth
Summary: Midas is Stressed, Skye is babby who just wants to help people.
Series: Absolutely Nonsense Fortnite Drabbles I will probably only explain through my writing or not at all [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2175531
Kudos: 6





	No fighting wars, no ringing chimes. We're just feeling fine.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this mainly to have a decent format to send my random fortnite drabbles to friends but hey! May aswell contribute to the lack of Fortnite fics even if this writing is probably not Grade A right? This probably (definitely) contains alot of headcanons and pacing I obviously haven't explained to the public eye, but maybe it'll be an enjoyable read anyway. And in the future maybe I can write more for people to clear up any confusion! :)  
> PSA I will GET you if you ship Skydas.

Often whenever Skye left the Agency, it was to the far off lands. Nooks and crannies of Apollo noone took notice of or knew about, always for days at a time too. Weeks, if she had been sent back to guard The Shark. Maybe if she was more of an aloof person, someone might actually find it mysterious. But being as transparent as she was, it was no secret she was simply a girl you couldn’t keep in one place for too long. She got antsy, and anxious. Bored. Distracted during meetings, missing crucial info a child really shouldn’t be expected to take in anyway, but she still _wanted_ to. She loved being an agent, dangerous but exhilirating. And well! She’s never failed a mission so far, so the boss can’t complain! Though maybe she only owed that to the hushed forwarding of details from TNTina later. Despite the womans blatantly uninterested look during the get-togethers, she never seemed to miss a single word.  
  
Lately though, she hasn’t been able to bring herself to go far, and the reason why is keeping her plenty anxious and distracted.  
  
There’s a few of her henchmen she’s pretty inclined to believe were given special orders to protect her, and manage her side of things if needed, so it was no big deal to get them to watch over The Shark while she lingered around here. They’ve always been basically attached to her hip like Clingers, never leaving her floor, always checking on her whereabouts. She likes people, _loves_ them, but even that’s a bit much. They were more like bodyguards than henchmen, though for moments like these, she’s grateful to not have to return.  
  
Even if she’s worried though, Skye’s not the sort of person to let the thoughts fester. She helps when she can, and then waits until the next time she’s able to. She’s sure it has to be part of the reason she makes a good agent.  
  
She’s got a terrible habit of zoning out though. Eyes glazing over and her previously focused expression going completely vacant until the only thing snapping her out of it is the pencil she was using to draw falling out of her hand, leaving a nasty streak right across what she’d been working on. A gift, no less. Letting out a distressed cry, she’s quickly swiping her hand over the smudge like it’ll fix anything. Infact making it a million times worse. It has her milliseconds from throwing the whole sketchbook in the river, but she thinks wiser, anger so fleeting it has her smacking it into her forehead instead before shoving it away under Ollie where she can’t mess it up anymore.  
  
There’s a perfectly good tree at her side, but instead she has the gigantic creature at her back, leaning into the comfortable softness of his fluffy coat. He was warm too, and she always had the tendancy to get kind of cold. He dozes like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and he probably didn’t.  
  
Skye had opted to sit outside today, inside was always so _chilly_ with all the airconditioning, and the sun always helped to keep her out of her worries. There was a nice patch to the left of the Agency building that got a good amount of shade and a good amount of sunlight without being directly in her eyes. She’d already started to establish this as her new spot. Sand was getting old _real_ fast.  
  
As it appears, she isn’t able to ignore those worries for long, just as she’s leaning her head back into pink fuzz does the door up on the first floor creak open and a man comes out and leans his golden palms against the railing. He always kind of looks like the weight of the world is slowly caving in on his shoulders, but right now it appears as a glaring truth in a moment she’s sure he thinks he’s alone. She feels a bit guilty taking advantage of that, but she does take a moment to absorb the withered look of exhaustion on his face, the slump in his always near perfect posture, and the way his hair is ruffled like he’s been stressfully combing his fingers through it for hours.  
  
Skye has always wondered what it is that _Midas_ does, besides running things, and being the man who gives the orders. She knows there’s paperwork, for sure, but beyond that, it’s unimaginable. And now she’s hyperaware that it seems to be even beyond that. None of the other agents seem to be secretive like him, she has a strong inkling he doesn’t tell them everything, but she trusts him far too much to even think about questioning it. Whatever it is, it must be important. But it's what has her concerned. He has others fooled, but every day since the beginning something has been...Slipping. Every day, the facade cracks a little more, and yet she hasn't a clue what's behind it.  
  
  
Feeling like she’s been spying (ha) for too long, she lifts herself up on her knees in order to lean over Ollie and get his attention, waving a hand up towards him. It’s a wonder he didn’t spot the big pink blob amongst the greenery instantly, but she gives it a pass considering the both of them seem to be a bit out of it today. “Bossman!” She calls, getting a small chitter out of the mound under her elbows for interrupting their peaceful silence.  
  
It’s all it takes to snap him back into focus, back straightening and eyes zeroing in on the girl, maintaining a look of surprise for only a second more before he’s all firm, careful expressions once more. “Agent Skye, I forgot you said you were going to hang around.” He’d approved of it afterall. It was no issue, he didn’t know why she wanted to, but believe it or not, she was hard to argue with.  
  
“Ugh, I told you not to call me that.” She whines, “It’s so weird.” She frowns for a second as she settles her chin onto her now folded arms. It’s gone the minute she gets an idea. “You wanna come sit with me for a while?” She’s trying not to already lay it on thick with the pleading tone she just _knows_ gets to his heart. “Ah, I can’t really. I only came out to get a breather-” The thing is, Skye is _really_ good at knowing when someone is lying too, at least, people she’s known for more than a day anyways. And as unreadable as Midas thinks he is, and is about 90 percent of the time, she without fail always picks up on his deception when it’s towards her. He has no physical cues. Perfect eye contact, he doesn’t fidget, he just stays in his usual completely still stature. And yet she knows.  
  
“C’mooon, you can take a little break. You act like we’re running out of time, like, _all the time_!” She doesn’t miss the way he recoils in response to that, though she couldn’t even begin to grasp why.  
  
The sudden ridgidness disappears with a hefty sigh of defeat. God forbid she try to pry into him any more. Skye seems more than pleased with this, twisting back around to her original position. It takes only a few moments to clear the pristine white stairs and round onto the perfectly kempt green lawn, the grass almost appearing artifical with how well-maintained it's kept. Skye pats the spot next to her and Midas looks on with disdain at the thought of sitting in dirt. Considering he's already agreed and it's his only viable option, he consigns himself to fate and takes a seat beside her. He can't manage to look nearly relaxed as Skye does so easily, and he takes a bit of coaxing and reassurance that “Ollie wouldn’t hurt a fly!” nefore she gets him to skeptically lean back onto the mystical creature aswell, his legs go out and cross at the ankles, hands folding in his lap like he still has to maintain any sort of regality even now. He has to admit, this pet she kept with her was awfully comofortable. She only hums while he still looks out of place and awkward, more than satisfied with just the company.  
  
The frustration from earlier is but a distant memory now, revived anew to pull back out the sketchbook from under Ollie, the movement was enough to pull his gaze. “I was drawing something for you,” She explains, making easy conversation as she flips back through the pages. The books itself is a mess, sheets loose and pictures already falling out that she has to shove back in. She’s had it for maybe a month and she’s already running out of space. Not every page is a piece of artwork. Some are just dumb scribbles she does to fill the void. “The other day you said you really liked the scenary by the Grotto, and that it’s a shame it’s tucked away, so I took a picture and have been trying to copy it out.” She holds the polaroid out to him too. It’s hard to copy off of such a small image, but she seems to be managing just fine. “It’s just a sketch right now, so no judging!” Skye says with a pout, insecurity always lingering at the edges, seeing all the imperfections other people wouldn’t.  
  
“What happened to it?” Midas responds, more than flattered, but moreso confused about the huge scratch down the middle of it that is definitely not part of the photo.  
  
“I wasn’t paying attention,” She says with a clumsy smile and a bit of a dejected sigh. “I’ll fix it though! Nothing a little time can’t fix, you know? Do you like it?” She asks with such sincerity, but he’s already started to zone again. It’s the little things like that that remind him that’s she’s just a kid. A sixteen year old with so much adoration and wonder and just seeking his approval for something as minor as a drawing. A child he makes do his dirty work- “Midas?” No. The truth is if she wanted to leave, she would. And yet she’s still here even now. She’s stayed by him the longest out of any of them. She’s loyal, and determined. Dare he say she probably cares about more than just the extra cash he pays. Out of anyone, she’s likely the only one he could say with confidence he could trust.  
  
“Sorry.” Is all he mutters, trying to shake off the everpresent feeling of irrational paranoia by pinching between his brows. “Me aswell, it seems.” The fact that lately hes _so aware_ of how quickly and just how out of control his mind has begun to spiral has been taking a toll. Some days feel straight manic. To be so young and unburdened by so much knowledge is a luxury he won’t rip from her. “It’s wonderful, Skye. You’re very talented. I’d be honored to have it once it’s finished. I’ll frame it and put it up in my office.” If such a place even exists by then. Skye appears none the wiser, taking the praise with a smile brighter than the sun currently shining on them.  
  
Things lapse into a much easier silence after that, long enough that Midas has actual begun to properly let himself relax, breathing the clear air a little easier than he has in quite a while. A stark difference to the stuffy dark underground of the Agency. How someone can be so content with such ill lighting and depressing colors and absolutely _shitty_ airflow, he doesn’t know. “You know, boss, if you’re ever stressed, we’re here for you. I’ll listen at least…” Skye says out of the blue, not even lifted her head from where she’s once again resumed the quiet sketching of pencil across paper. “To me, you guys are more than just…colleagues. You guys are like my family.” It almost pains him to hear in more ways than one. He already has family, and would consider it a mess. Thinking of his agents too fondly worries him, getting too attached worries him. Though he knows in some ways it’s already too late. He knows she doesn’t remember hers either. Very few in the Loop will, and especially with such a special case as Skye.  
  
She bumps shoulders with him when he doesn’t respond, not expect as such, but just reassuring. “Okay?”  
What he’s saying okay to, he isn’t sure, but he’s saying it anyway with meaning. “Okay.”  
  
With the brief flit of eyes to hers, he sees the pure genuine look of worry before it melts into another easy smile. Then she’s switching hands with her pencil (Ambidexterous, another little quirk he finds makes her incomparible.) and makes an open palmed grabbing motion with the other against his knee. He seems to take a second too long considering the purpose of it before Skye grows tired of asking for permission and latches onto his hand herself, threading their fingers together with the practiced ease of being clingy. She holds no worry or even thought to the split-second frantic panic at the thought of accidentally turning her gold, only squeezing her grip tighter when he even minisculely tries to wrangle free. “You’re so cold!” She exclaims, like it surprises her everytime, like she’s not a total hypocrite. Eitherway, it grounds him that she is infact, just fine. Her fingertips remain unscathed, his freedom not so much. She’s made it a million times harder to leave now with his hand stolen. He can’t find it in him anymore to particularly care.  
  
It’s falling on dusk by the time patience has even started to run thin. Skye has made insurmountable progress on the sketch, but even she has worn herself out by now, pencil dropped a half hour ago in favor of leaning her head into his shoulder, hold on his hand loose enough that he could’ve left long before now if he truly wished, Instead he finds his thumb idly tracing the bumps of her knuckles while she recounts her newest memory of an old home, talk of a diner by a divot she wishes they had here, and how their fries were unbeatable. It’s nice to see some things will never change. Even if bad things happen, someone will remember parts of it fondly.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Skye being good at drawing is based on the sketch you could see on her desk! I just think she's the type to have a neat little talent like that.
> 
> \- Now is not the time I go into detail on why Skye is talking about things from Athena. But I will say I do headcanon her as being from Athena, and retaining some memories of it through the black hole. I like to think it's where she got her sense of adventure!


End file.
